Phase Two - dog phase

(for the start of this story, see Phase One - cat phase below)
So now we had cats.  Two sisters, small bundles of black and white fluff, one short hair (Alpha), one long hair (Beta).  My husband was quickly won over but I found my victory had unexpected consequences.  I started to worry about them.  I had sleepless nights.  Why?  Well, for one thing, they looked so small and helpless.  And one of them was distinctly accident-prone.
Hmmm.
 
We discovered early on that the long hair kitten was not the brightest creature.  She must have missed the day they were doling out gumption.  We left a piece of string tied to the back of a chair to keep them amused while we were out and came home to discover her dangling pathetically by one paw which was ravelled up in the kind of tangle which faced Alexander the Great when he met with the Gordian knot.  Like Alexander, we cut the knot. When we installed a cat door Alpha zipped in and out all day long but Beta sat and poked at the flap with one hesitant paw until we took pity on her and let her out.  Or in.  And out again.
 
On the plus side, Beta never brought back any birds or mice.  Her one attempt at stalking a pigeon came to an abrupt end when the bird flew away.  From the expression on Beta’s face, we gathered that she was not going to play a game so unfairly stacked in the bird’s favour.  Alpha was not interested in birds either.  Her obsession was the pond full of goldfish in our neighbours’ garden.  Soon their immaculate lawn had a ruler-straight line across it, leading from the gate to the pond.  A line exactly one black and white paw’s width wide.
 
I reintroduced the idea of a dog but my harried husband, calculating the cost of cat food, vet visits and pet sitters, seemed strangely disinclined to get enthusiastic.  Even though he had always assured me he was a dog person.
Hmmm.
 
New plan.
 ‘We’ve been married for two years.  Why don’t we have a baby?’ I asked one Saturday over lunch.
‘Are you freaking kidding me?’ he spluttered (after he had finished choking on his cheese sandwich).  ‘There’s no way we can afford a baby.  Maybe later.’
 
I nodded thoughtfully, censoring the reply which rose to my lips in the interests of harmonious relations.  The cats gave me a sideways look, as if they knew what I was thinking.  Cats, it turns out, are considerably more clued up about the feminine psyche than husbands.  Even cats without much gumption.
 
‘Well, it’s a baby or a dog,’ I said.  ‘You choose.’
He looked at me to see if I was kidding.  I wasn’t.
So we got a dog.  A small blonde puppy who was destined to grow into a large and very orange Golden Retriever.
 
Phase Two accomplished!

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